The Flower Among Murders
by AdianaWillow
Summary: Jasmine Watson-Holmes is the adopted daughter of John Watson and Sherlock Holmes; story follows her life and the adventures that she has while being the infamous daughter of these two. (Johnlock, Mystrade, Parentlock, OC characters) Naturally, and sadly, I don't own any of these characters P.S. There will be some mentions of the Avengers in this news mostly. More in the future
1. Chapter 1

Apparently calling your teachers worthless will get you a detention, but explaining why they are during an evaluation will get you suspended from school... No one ever told me this, but unfortunately I found this out the hard way on my third day of my first year of school. It's not my fault that they expect me to sit in a class room full of ordinary people and...socialize. Not to mention that I was taught how to read and write fluently by the time I was five and even though I am only eight, I read at a high-school level. I can also speak and write five different languages fluently – French, Spanish, Japanese, German, and Arabic. My father is very proud of me and insists that I just be home-schooled, but my dad wouldn't hear of it. Yes, I have two dads in my life, no I don't care.

Anyways, incidents like that just kept happening and as I got older, they just got worse. By the time I was in my third year, my parents were looking at either home-schooling me or sending me to a private school.

"Jasmine is to intelligent to go to school with other people! I don't take on as many cases now, I could teach her," my father argued. My father looks like a giant compared to my dad, a wiry, pale skinned, giant though. Dad on the other hand was quite a bit shorter with blonde-ish hair and blue eyes, and he is a doctor.

"She _needs_ to interact with other children!" dad countered.

They didn't know I was listening to them; they were in the living room having their row, but I was sitting on the stairs with my stuffed dragon in my arms – his name is Smaug and is a deep red color with black eyes.

"Other children are stupid," father snarled. "Besides, I don't want her to have a childhood like I did."

There was silence for a bit, when dad spoke he was much calmer, "I know you were given hell as a child in school, but that doesn't mean that Jasmine will have that."

Father scoffed, "Please, she can already deduce people almost as well as I can!"

"Well then, think of school as more practice for her deductions," dad teased.

I knew the fight was over then by the silence that followed, only filled with their breaths and they were – uck – kissing. As silently as I could, I crept back into my room and climbed back into bed. Not five minutes later I heard my door open; I pretended to be asleep, but naturally father knew better.

"Jasmine, I know you are awake," he said. Father has the most soothing voice, whenever he reads my bedtime story, I always fall asleep quickly.

Cracking my eyes open, I glanced up at him and smiled, "Do I get to be home-schooled?" I asked hopefully.

Dad walked in my room as well and sat on the edge of my bed, "How about we compromise instead? Your Uncle Mycroft has been hinting at a private school that he thought you might like," he said.

Hmm, private school? I think I could live with that, "Will they have a chemistry lab?" I asked.

Father chuckled, "I'm sure we can arrange for you to have access to it. I'll call your school and Mycroft tomorrow and set an appointment with the other school. Go to bed, darling. Good night," he said and kissed me on a forehead. Dad followed suit and all to soon they were downstairs doing whatever they do at night. I felt my eyes drift shut, and then I was dreaming.

Six years later: First day of High School

"Now don't forget –"

"Dad, I've got this," I smiled at him. My fathers, John and Sherlock Watson-Holmes stood in the living room, both had worried looks on their faces. "I'm a big girl now, I can walk to school by myself. Besides, you know Uncle Mycroft will be watching my every move on the CCV. I've got my can of mace in my purse and my stiletto in my hair, I'll be fine." It was 7:30a.m. and if I didn't leave in the next two minutes, I was going to be late for my first day of public high school.

Dad bit his bottom lip and father had an arm wrapped around his shoulders, father smiled at me, "John, you know she will excel. The only ordinary level classes that she has are the requirements for freshmen." He turned to me, "Now, I know it will be hard, but try _not_ to make everyone hate you, don't steal my appeal," he smirked.

It has been a long standing joke between us Holmes to see which one of us could piss more people off in one day, and as of recently, I have been winning.

I smirked back, "I make no promises, besides, you have been getting a bit slow!"

Before he could retort back I gave both of them a kiss on the cheek and walked out the door, "I'll text you when school is out!"

Okay, so maybe high-school wasn't such a great idea. It was fourth period and already, in my last three classes – advanced chemistry, Senior AP English, and advanced music – I have made everyone hate me, and I didn't even say anything about them! I guess it is odd for a freshman to be in so many advanced classes, it's not my fault that they are all so... ordinary.

Thankfully I have lunch after this, I wonder what school food is like?

"Watson, Jasmine?" my history teacher called.

"Here," I mumbled. I deliberately left off the Holmes on my registration, father has become quite famous around London and I wanted to try and be a normal kid for now.

If I were at home, I would most likely be throwing knives at my ceiling – dad won't let me shoot the wall like father – due to the boredom that reeks in this place!

My teacher, Ms. Wysong, was in her early thirties, happily married, pregnant – but she doesn't know –, has two older siblings, one which gave her the scar behind her right ear, and actually enjoys her job; that poor soul. She was wearing a brown skirt and a green top – both are at least three+ years old by the fraying at the hems – and flat shoes due to her weak arches. "Alright class! I would like to welcome you to an exciting year of European history! Don't think that this is a blow-off class, quit your snickering, because if you don't pass this class, you will never graduate."

Hmm, alto voice with a bit of authority in it, interesting. With her wavy hair and open face, I would have expected her to have a more timid voice, then again with the way she is holding herself, she is used to having people listen to her. Possibly has a high ranking position in a local organization... I need more data, I think I'll like this teacher.

"Since this _is_ the first day, I think we will take it easy! So, get acquainted with each other and make some new friends!"

Never mind, I don't think I will like this teacher.

Instantly people began to talk to one another, chatting away about idle gossip and what they did over the summer. I pulled my book out of my bag – rereading the Hobbit for about the fiftieth time again – and began to fall into the world of Middle Earth.

"Hi," a timid voice said behind me.

I sighed, "Hello."

"My name is Erick," the boy said.

I ignored him and started to read again.

"What school did you go to?"

I clenched my jaw, "A private school, you have probably never heard of it." Because my Uncle had it specially formed for royal and influential families that was taught in a secret location, a.k.a. an "abandoned" warehouse in downtown London, but the inside is almost as elegant as the palace.

"Oh." Blessed silence. "Your name is Jasmine, right?" Instead of answering, I nodded. "What book are you reading?"

"The Hobbit," I replied and tried to sink back into my head.

"I love that book! Is this your first time reading it?" I shook my head. "I wouldn't have taken you for a reader."

"Looks can be deceiving." I myself am a perfect example, I have dark curly hair, my father's eyes, a very slight frame – puberty hasn't caught up to me yet –, and all around look sweet and innocent, but I can kill a man from a ten meters away with a knife. I've chased criminals all around London with my parents and have even scaled Big Ben – only forty feet up – to get a good shot at a jewel thief.

Erick was silent for a few moments, he was unfortunately trying to come up with something else to talk about. "Do you follow the Sherlock cases?"

This actually got my attention, I schooled my face into one of mild interest, "Hmm? No not really," I said and turned to face him.

Light brown hair, light brown eyes, should be wearing glasses but refuses to. Single child, parents are divorced, lives with the mother, mother has middle class job – just enough to make it and have a bit of spending money –, not popular at all, all around geek, an introvert, graced with good skin, very few friends, never had a girlfriend but not gay, ate toast and eggs for breakfast, biked to school, decently intelligent, lives on the east side of the river.

"Seriously? He is so cool, I really want to be like him when I get older! I've tried to deduce people like he does but -"

I smirked, "Deduce me then."

He blushed slightly – it actually makes him look better, "Um...okay..um..." He was silent for a moment, "You come from a family of money, took a cab to school, have a boyfriend, you own two cats and a fish, and... Honestly I have no idea."

I couldn't help myself, I busted out laughing and thankfully he laughed with me. "Well, you got one thing right, my family does have money – well my Uncle does, my parents make decent money."

He nodded in understanding, "I'm guessing that he got you into that school then?"

"Yeah, him and the headmaster are old friends," I replied. Okay, so maybe making friends isn't that difficult.

The rest of the class period carried on like that, easy conversation about trivial matters, and the entire time I gathered more data on how to be normal and about Erick. For instance, his father was cheating on his mother which is why they divorced three years ago, he _does_ own two cats and a fish, loves to read and the Hobbit is his favorite book, has a group of friends that he sits with at lunch – invited me to sit with them, I accepted – and is allergic to peanuts.

When class was over, we made our way down to the dining area and grabbed a table near the back of the room. Note: school food looks disgusting and smells even worse. By the time we got back to the table, there were five more people, three girls and two boys.

Girl one: strawberry-blonde hair, hazel eyes, fair skin, just a bit taller than me, two years older than me, anime fan, lesbian – has eye on one of the other girls –, single father as parent, no siblings, owns a small dog – terrier. Name: Elizabeth (Liz) Kings

Girl two: brunette but has died hair a shocking shade of pink, dark complexion, brown eyes, Elizabeth's crush, two older brothers, parents are together but open relationship, smokes regularly, Senior, works at a music store, most likely has a secret tattoo on the pelvic region that her parents don't know about, and is bi-sexual. Name: Sandy Yates.

Girl three: dark red hair, light green eyes, almost as pale as me, skinny, borderline anorexic, abusive father who is also an alcoholic, mother does drugs, younger sister, owns a grey cat, and has tried to commit suicide at least three times in the last two months; in desperate need of therapy. Name: Amelia Hutchens.

Boy one: Asian decent – Korean if I had to guess –, tallest of the group, short hair spiked up, recently switched to contacts, father is a business man, mother is seeing another man, only child, likes Amelia, knows about Amelia's attempts, tries to act smart but is actually a huge disappointment to father, is planning to run away from home as soon as he hits eighteen. Name: Dae-Jung Huyn (Dae for short)

Boy two: Sandy blonde hair, bad acne, got his braces removed over the summer, comes from a very wealthy family but keeps it hidden, has a multiple-personality disorder, lives with grandparents, biological parents are dead, lives out in the country, reads to escape reality, and is very, very gay. Name: Nathan Reed.

Erick sat next to Nathan and motioned for me to sit next to him; I set my stuff down and sat as quietly as possible on the squeaky chairs. Everyone was watching me yet trying not to be to obvious about it... that is actually really nice.

"Hey guys, this is Jasmine," Erick said. As if on cue, the rest of the group dropped the not noticing act and began asking me questions. Easy stuff really: where I was from, do I like to read, what do my parents do (they were shocked that I had two fathers), do I like cats, and so on and so forth.

Everyone introduced themselves and told me just a little about them – I knew most of it already, but it was interesting to know that Liz is fluent in French and German, Amelia is an artist, Sandy sings opera, Dae can bake like a god (according to Amelia), and Nathan is in the closet, very deep in the closet.

Eventually the conversation flowed freely between the friends and I was left to listen and observe; it was obvious that everyone here has known each other for quite a long time and are almost like their own little family... and every single one of them is obsessed with my father.

"Did you hear that Sherlock apprehended a serial killer last night? Apparently the killer was targeting druggies and homeless people," Dae said.

Actually, that killer was killing off people who owed him money and was starting to try and sell to children, which is why father and I chased him all over London last night and my knees are scraped and bruised – I fell out of a tree.

"He is so cool... Wouldn't it be awesome if he gave a speech here?" Liz gushed.

Ha! Father would tear this place apart!

"Oh! What if there was a murder here and he solved it!" Nathan said.

"Well, that can be arranged," I mumbled...and they are staring again. "It can!" Especially when all of Scotland Yard has known you since you were a child, and an Uncle that could make the body disappear, and a father who has taught you how to leave absolutely no evidence.

Surprisingly, they laughed, "The only question is who to kill!" Amelia said. I saw the flash in her eyes, the flash of depression and suicide... a flash I have seen way to many times.

"How about one of the popular girls? Oh! How about Natalie East?" Sandy said.

"Speaking of the devil," Erick mumbled and the entire table fell silent.

A blonde girl – fake blonde – came walking up to the table flanked by two other girls; all of them were wearing blue "school-girl" skirts and white T-shirts. Fake tans, bleached teeth, walks with a swinging of the hips that is forced, expensive looking heels but are actually from a second hand store... actually, upon closer inspection, all of the leader's clothes were second hand. Interesting.

The trio stopped in front of the table and she sneered down at us, "Found another freak to join you? Just lovely, one more nerd to taint the school."

Freak. I _hate_ that word. I had to literally bite my tongue, and now I can taste the blood.

"Oh, she's silent? Hmm, I recognize you, you were in my first hour class. Not just a nerd then, a true, genuine freak! Is she a fan of that cock-sucking faggot as well?"  
I never get really angry, but for her I'll make an exception. I looked her straight in the eye and said, "Your father has recently filed for bankruptcy and lost all of his stocks in the American Market thanks to their economic downfall. Your mother is becoming an alcoholic and drug addict while your father is off fucking some other woman, a woman who is only a few years older than you. Due to your father's fuck up, you have had to sell all of your name-brand clothes, computer, cars, house, and other expensive items – such as your diamond earrings – so that you and your mother could rent an apartment. Occasionally your father shows up, but only to fuck your mother and to try and convince you to move with him. Ah, but you won't because when you were little he raped you and now you have a child out there in the foster care system. Every now and then you wonder about that child, but since you were... thirteen when that happened so you really don't care. What else? Well your little brother recently ran away and is currently living with your grandparents and you haven't seen him in weeks. Oh, and if you were wondering, yes you are pregnant, and no, it isn't your boyfriend's but the guy you cheated on him with. Shall I continue?" Dead silence. "No? What a pity." I grabbed my book and began to read.

Glancing up, the Natalie had tears in her eyes and her friends were looking at her with shocked faces, "Did I miss anything?" I drawled.

"You will pay for this!" she hissed.

"Unlikely."

With a snarl, she stormed off with the other two girls following her.

"I don't think she will be bothering you guys any time soon," I said. Still silence. I looked at the group and saw a look of shock and wonder on their faces.

"How did you do that?" Erick asked.

I hate it when I blush, but I felt the blood rise up, "Well, I've, um, always been able to do that."

"That's what Sherlock does, he deduces people by just looking at them..." Liz trailed off.

"Yes, I know, and it's more like observing," I said.

"No, like that is exactly what he does, I've seen it," Dae said. "He visited my father's company once with his partner and he was able to tell my dad his life history by just looking at him."

I continued eye-contact, even though I really wanted to look away, but that would make me look guilty. "I don't know what you are getting at. I've always been able to 'deduce' people ever since I was little."

"So when you were saying that it could be arranged..."

"Yes, I could probably get away with murder and the great Sherlock Holmes wouldn't even be able to figure it out," I said, and he wouldn't. He's tried to figure out many things that have "gone missing" in the flat, and never once had he traced it back to me...like his blue scarf from when him and dad first started dating. I sold that on e-bay and got fifty pounds for it! He still secretly blames Aunt Molly, but let me assure you, that is not the case!

"_Awesome_!" Sandy said, "Let's do it!"

"No. If my father ever found out that I killed someone at my school... Okay scratch that, my dad would be horrified and my father would be proud but peeved that he couldn't figure it out," I laughed.

Dead silence. Right, my slip up, of course they would notice that. "What do you mean that he would be proud but peeved that _he_ couldn't figure it out?" Amelia asked.

"Well he would be, my father is a very intelligent man," I said.

They weren't buying it, I could see it. "Jasmine?"

Erick was looking at me a bit odd, "The teacher did say your last name is Watson..."

"Watson is actually a very common name," I snapped back.

"Defensive are we? Why?" Nathan asked.

Ugh! This! _This_ is why I don't socialize! "Wouldn't you be if everyone was treating you like this?"

"No, not really," Nathan replied.

"What's your address?" Amelia asked in a nonchalant voice.

Automatically, which is what she was counting on, I replied, "221 B Baker Street." Well fuck.

Now everyone was openly staring at me with awe and the look that people reserve for super-stars. Great, now they won't treat me like a normal person.

"So is it true that he keeps body parts in the fridge?" Liz asked.

"There is more body parts than there is food in that house," I replied. Surprisingly, everyone laughed and they fell back into easy conversation... What the hell?

The bell rang dismissing lunch; Erick hung back to talk to me, "So you don't follow his cases, huh?"

I smirked, "No, I help with them."

He laughed, "What class do you have next?"

I pulled my schedule out of my pocket, "Ugh, Introduction to Drama... How is this even relevant?"

"I've got that class now too, so does Amelia and Liz, this is going to be awesome!" he said.

"Listen, could you and the others not spread it around who my parents are? Don't get me wrong, I love them dearly, but it tends to make my life...complicated," I explained.

"Sure, no problem. Besides, you were cool even before we found out, now you are just mega-cool," Erick joked.

Did he just..._flirt_ with me?

**Out of class, heading home – JWH**

**OK. Pick up up milk -SH**

**Dad told you to do that today -JWH**

**Been busy. -SH**

**So? -JWH**

**Please -SH**

**Fine. Can a friend come over? -JWH**

**Friend? -SH**

**Yes, I made a friend today, actually quite a few -JWH**

**Ask your dad. -SH**

**He's at work. -JWH**

**So? -SH**

**Ugh! -JWH**

"I've got to ask my dad, give me a minute," I told Amelia. She didn't want to go home, couldn't blame her.

**Dad, can a friend come home with me? Father told me to ask you -JWH**

"I thought you just did," Amelia said.

"I asked my father, he is being stubborn," I told her.

**Sure. You made a friend? -JW**

**Yes, I made a few today. Is it that hard to believe? -JWH**

"He said yes. I have to pick up milk though," I said and we began to walk to my home.

**No, not really... Okay, yeah, kind of, lol -JW**

**Haha -JWH**

When we arrived at my house, I could tell that she was starting to get nervous, "It's fine," I said, "My father is actually nice at times... I think."

She smiled, "I just don't want to offend him," she said as we walked up the stairs.

"Jaz, is that you?" Mrs. Hudson called from her door.

"Yes Mrs. H!" I called back.

"How was school?"

We stopped walking and I leaned over the banister to look at our land-lady, "It was actually okay, I made friends!"

"That's wonderful deary! Are they human this time?"

Amelia choked on a laugh, "Yes, one is with me right now, I brought proof!"

I could hear Mrs. H laughing with us, "Alright, you two behave then. Oh, and Sherlock has been shooting the wall again, so he might be in a mood."

"Got it covered," I replied.

We finished walking upstairs and stopped in front of my door, "Seriously, don't worry, I'll make him behave." I smirked and opened the door, "Father, I'm home!"

He was lying on the couch, hands in his thinking pose and dad's gun lying on the coffee table next to him.

"Hmm? Oh, good. Hand me my phone will you?"

"It's on the table, you can grab it," I told him. I swear he should get a lazy award somedays.

He sighed and sat up; instantly I could see him categorizing Amelia, "Don't," I told him. He raised an eyebrow and smirked.

"Fine."

"Father, this is Amelia Hutchens," I said, "Amelia, this is my father, Sherlock Holmes."

"It's a pleasure to meet you," she said and smiled slightly at him.

He nodded and went to lay back down, "Do you mind if we go out for the night? My other friends wanted to catch a movie," I said.

Father froze and looked at me, "I haven't met your other friends yet, nor has John."

"Please?" I stuck my lower lip out slightly and did the famous "Holmes puppy-look" that father is so fond of pulling on dad.

I saw his resolve crumble, "What if they meet here?"

"Well we were supposed to meet next door anyways... Oh, god, Liz is going to have a heart-attack!" I laughed. "By the way father, they are sort of obsessed with you."

He scowled, "Great. Fans."

"Well we are going to be in my room, _please_ don't shoot the ceiling," I said.

He scoffed, but to make sure I walked over to him, kissed him on the forehead and grabbed the gun.

Father shot me a scowl but then went right back into his "mind palace" to work on the most recent case – two missing children, only one set of footprints as evidence.

"Is he always like this?" Amelia asked as we went up to my room – the milk was already in the fridge.

"Yeah, pretty much. The majority of the time he just sits there and thinks or he plays the violin... Like at three in the morning, every morning," I said. She laughed and continued to look around the flat.

My room used to be my dad's room – before the two tossers got together – and when I was about twelve, they said that I was allowed to paint it however I wanted it. Well, now my room is a deep purple with silver trimming and pictures of London and other cities in black and white hanging on the walls. Uncle Mycroft got a special bed for my room, it is a canopy but is made of black wrought-iron and the design are actual jasmine flowers. The curtains that hang around my bed are silver with black swirls and flowers stitched in. Then, on the wall opposite of my bed, is a huge dartboard with my throwing knives sticking out of it... I love my knives.

"Your room is... _amazing_!"

"Uh...thanks...I guess," I mumbled. "So, what do you want to do while we wait?"

Amelia sits down in the chair near my window – an old rocking chair that used to be Mrs. Hudson's, "Well... I guess we could get ready for the movies. Surely you are not going to wear that."

I glanced down at my clothes, I was wearing my favorite pair of jeans – admittedly they were a bit big and raggedy, but they are comfortable – and a black hoodie. "What's wrong with this?"

She raised and eyebrow and shook her head, "Please! Don't you want to impress Erick? I'm pretty sure he likes you."

"Why do I care?" Honestly, relationships are a bit pointless.

Amelia scoffed and walked over to my closet; when she opened the doors she paused, "Are you telling me that you have a closet full of name-brand clothes that you don't even wear?"

I nodded, "They are to conspicuous for investigating and tailing people."

"Well tonight you are not helping your father with a case, I am forcing you to be a normal teenager and that means dressing up!"

I don't like the look that is in her eyes.

There was a knock on my door, "Jaz? There is someone at our door asking for you and your friend, she says her name is Elizabeth," my dad said.

"Can you send her in Mr. Watson? I called her to help me get Jaz ready!" Amelia said.

"Ready?" I know that tone, that amused but worried tone that he uses all the time with father.

"I'm giving Jaz a make-over and Liz is great with hair," she explained.

"She's lying dad, I'm being tortured," I muttered which got me a thump on my head. Are all girls like this?

"I don't hear any screaming though! I'll send her up Amelia," dad said.

"Thank you!"

I have been sitting in this chair for over an hour while Amelia played Barbie with me; my nails were painted, eyebrows plucked, face scrubbed and moisturized, and a layer of foundation has been applied expertly to my face. She already has my out fit picked out – a pair of jeans that actually fit and a purple blouse that Aunt Molly had gotten me for my birthday this year with a pair of black heeled boots to top it off. Amelia began to apply the eye-liner when Liz came in and she almost poked my eye out.

"Ouch!"

"Stay still!"

I glanced over at Liz and she was just gaping at us – I am currently in my bath robe and undergarments since Am insisted that I can't get makeup on my clothes. "So, I'm guessing you met my parents?"

She nodded with a huge grin on her face, "I still cannot believe that I'm actually in 221B! My life is complete!"

I scoffed which moved my head which in turn earned me another thump on the head from my torturer. "Hold still or I _will_ poke your eye out! By the way, your eyes are gorgeous."

"Uh, thanks, I guess," I mumbled and tried to keep my eyes open.

Thankfully, she was done with the liner quickly and went on to apply a bit of color – silver liner smudged slightly according to her – and then the mascara. "I almost don't need this, but I don't want to leave this unfinished," she muttered and ordered me to blink a few times. "Okay Liz, work your magic!"

Elizabeth worked my hair out of it's braid, "Hmm, well, honestly the only thing I'm going to need is a bit of product and it should be fine once I get the part right."

Less than five minutes later, they were done. "Okay, sit tight while your hair sets, in the mean time, Amelia and I will freshen up."

They started to re-apply their make up and fix their hair; in the mean time I grabbed my knives and sat on my bed. The first _thud_ in the wall startled them, especially since it landed right above their heads. "Was that necessary?"

I smirked and threw another one at the board this time, "Sort of."

"Alright, get dressed."

I grabbed my clothes and slipped them on easily, the boots were another story. "What is with all of these laces? They are unnecessary!" I growled and was half tempted to throw them out my window.

"They're for decoration," Liz said and dropped down and helped me.

_Finally _I was deemed ready and we made our way downstairs with my credit card in my back pocket – it has its perks to be the only niece of the "British Government".

"Jaz do you need... Are you sure you are my daughter?" dad asked. Even I have to admit, I look totally different with the make-up and clothes on.

"No, not really," I said, "I think they knocked me out and switched my brain with someone else's."

Dad's eyes lit up, "I've got to get a picture of this."

"No!" But it was to late, he was off to get the camera from his room. "Father, please tell dad to not take a picture of me!"

"Why is he taking a picture of you?"

As if on cue, dad walked out of the room and snapped a picture of me then showed it to father, "This is why."

I saw father tense and then he sat up to look at me... I'm starting to hate silence. "I thought you were going to the movies, not have tea with Mycroft."

"I am, blame these two," I muttered.

He raised an eyebrow, "You are going downstairs to meet with the rest of the group now, correct?"

I stared at him for a moment, oh God, I know that look, "Actually I think we are –"

"Yep! Okay, come on Jaz, everyone is waiting," Liz said. She grabbed me by the elbow and all but dragged me out of the room, "We'll have her back later!"

You know those days where _nothing_ goes as planned? Yeah, this is my day.

If it wasn't for Liz being taller than me, I most likely would have fallen down these cursed stairs... That would give me a reason to stay home. Already I could feel the perspiration form on the back of my neck and my stomach twist into knots. Chase down a serial killer in the pouring rain? I can do that no problem! Meet up with friends while dressed in nice clothes? Screw this, take me back to my room.

"Um, I don't feel to well," I mumble before we reach the door.

"To bad, suck it up, buttercup," Liz snapped, "Amelia did not just spend two hours on you for you to back out."

Note about Elizabeth: has one hell of a temper and does not like it when people back out. Also, is hoping to make a move on Sandy tonight.

We stopped before leaving the safety of my building, Liz turned and looked me straight in the eye, "Okay, here is the deal. You _will_ be a teenager tonight! I already talked to Mr. Watson and he agreed that under no circumstances – family death excluded – are you to be home early tonight, he said that ten is the earliest you are allowed home. In that case, we are going to have fun and possibly get in trouble, deal?"

I can only imagine the look on Uncle Greg's face if we end up in jail... It's almost worth it.

I took a deep breath and nodded, "Deal, but please, no more make-up."

Liz and Amelia laughed; they flanked me out the door and we made are way to next door to meet everyone else. The other three already had a table and were waiting on us, and by the looks on their faces – especially Erick's – I was one hell of a surprise.

...This night ought to be interesting.


	2. Chapter 2

Forget interesting, this night is going to be horrible. Not ten minutes after we all got our food and were just beginning to start easy conversation, my parents decided that they wanted dinner... They _never_ eat here! Especially my father, he prefers Chinese food when he decides to actually eat. Could they go get food at Angelo's? No, of course not!

The door had opened and out of habit, I glanced to see who was walking in, and almost spit my drink out of my mouth, "You have _got_ to be kidding me," I muttered and said a few choice words.

Father glanced over our way, _winked_, and took dad's hand as they walked up to the counter.

"Sherlock! John! Haven't seen you two in a while!" the owner bellowed and walked around the counter to shake their hands.

Father nodded and dad gave the owner a huge grin, "Yeah, we thought that we would just pop down here for dinner tonight. We're having a night in."

"Can't blame you, what with all of the cases lately! How is the little one?"

Father raised an eyebrow and a look of profound disappointment dawned his face, "Jasmine is sitting over there. In fact, if you wouldn't mind..." from there his voice dropped so it didn't carry to where we were sitting.

_No, no, no, no! Please don't do this to me!_ I begged in my head. I'm far from a religious person, but if it would save me the embarrassment, I would drop to my knees now and pray to any god, hell, even the devil.

The owner – I can never bring myself to remember his name – nodded and waved a hand for them to chose a seat while he got their food ready. _Of course_ they took the table next to ours; father sprawled into his chair while dad had his elbows on the table – Grandma Holmes would scold him for that – and leaned in towards father.

The group – can I really call them my friends after only knowing them for this short amount of time? – had grown silent, but now began their conversations again, but this time it was very edited.

"So, um, what movie are we going to see?" Erick asked.

"Well, there is that new action one, with that American actor," Dae said.

"Oh! I heard that that is really good!" Nathan said.

"But what about the romantic one? Where the girl get's kidnapped and the guy has to save her," Sandy suggested.

Uck. Romance.

"Not everyone wants to watch a two hour cliche," Erick muttered.

I laughed and he gave me a weak grin in return, "How about the horror movie? Mental asylum break-out, cannibals, death, blood, and more death!" Liz squealed.

We all agreed on that one, which gave us a little over an hour before it starts. I could feel father's eyes watching us, and I could almost hear his own deductions about the group.

I pulled out my phone and shot him a text: **Stop it. -JWH**

**Stop what? -SH**

**You know what. -JWHO**

I heard him snicker and, glancing out of the corner of my eye, give dad _the look_.

They both got up and took the two empty seats that were next to me. Father sat closest to me and had that Cheshire grin on his face.

"I _will_ make your death look like an accident, Uncle Mycroft will help me hide the body," I snarled.

He knew my threat was empty – all of my death threats are – but he knew that I would get my revenge if he acted to poorly.

"So, my daughter made friends... Names?" he drawled.

I rolled my eyes, "Nathan, Erick, Dae, Sandy, and you already met Elizabeth and Amelia," I said and nodded to each in turn. "Guys, this is my father, Sherlock, and my dad, John." Dad grinned and said hello, father regarded them coldly.

It was as if my parents were movie stars by the looks on their faces; Sandy was visibly shaking, Nathan had a misty look in his eyes – did he have...yes, yes he did... that is beyond weird – and Erick looked a bit intimidated.

"Movies, eh? I haven't been in ages," the owner piped up from behind us. He had my parent's sandwiches in his hands; he placed them down, "I'm guessing you all are going to go see that romantic film?"

"No, the new horror film," I amended.

His eyebrows shot up, "Really? I know Jasmine is into the gory stuff... then again, birds of a feather flock together."

_Save me now. _

I nodded absently in agreement; I hate this idle talk.

Father smirked, "So it seems."

"So, Jasmine! You sure have grown up since the last time you came in here! What has it been, six, seven months?" the owner asked and pulled up a chair to chat with us.

"Something like that," I muttered. He and dad got into a conversation about the national football game; perhaps there is a god out there.

I glanced over at my father, but he was texting on his phone - Uncle Greg by the look on his face - and absently picking at his food. Rolling my eyes, I angled my back towards him and continued to talk with the group. "So, what time does the movie start?"

Amelia pulled out her mobile and checked the time, "In about forty-five minutes, so I guess we better hurry up if we want to make it on time."

Sweet relief!

Thankfully, everyone was almost done eating so we could leave in about five minutes.

"John, what would you say to us going to the movies?" father asked in his "innocent" voice. Dad gave him a scathing look and shook his head while pulling his phone out; a moment later, father's phone got a message.

_Thank you!_

Dad nodded to me and gave me one of his "I'm on your side" smiles. I smiled back and saw father give him a disappointed look. _Serves him right_, I thought to myself and stood up, "Are we ready?"

Everyone nodded and began to gather their stuff; I turned to my parents, "I'll be home later, if you need me, just text."

Father nodded, but I saw dad send a look to Liz, "Don't worry Mr. Watson, I'll make sure she doesn't get home till late! If she even comes home at all!" Liz joked.

"It's a school night, though," father amended.

"She'll be fine," dad murmured.

"Bye!" I said and dashed out the door before father could say anything else.

The movie was actually decent, and by the time we walked out the doors of the theater and into the London night air, Liz and Sandy were holding hands and giggling - at least the night was fruitful for them.

London is, in a way, a beautiful city with its bustling streets, crowded sidewalks, neon lights mixed in with the archaic buildings. Accents from all over the world fill the air and the smell of different vendors and exhaust fills the air- yes, there is no place like home.

"Well, the night is still young! What should we do now?" Dae asked.

It was about quarter till nine, so in all sense, there is time to do a little bit of something.

"How about we walk through Hyde Park? A romantic stroll!" Sandy gushed.

"Not all of us have someone to stroll with," Nathan said.

"Stroll with Jasmine!" Sandy retorted and linked her arm through Liz's.

I walked up to Nathan and put my arm through his, "It would be my honor to escort you," I said in my best imitation of an extravagant posh royal.

He laughed and did a mock curtsey, "Well bless my soul! How kind of you!"

I laughed in return, "Come on Erick! I think Nathan needs two escorts! He might faint!"

Erick puffed out his chest and did a formal bow in front of us, "It would be of the highest honor to assist you in escorting such a delicate lady," he said while pitching his voice a few octaves lower. Everyone laughed and we all paired up and made our way to the park.

We wove through the streets and past hordes of people, some gave us odd looks, but the majority just left us alone. When we did make it to the park, we slowed our pace and the group began a conversation about some local gossip - nothing that was of importance to me.

I slipped my arm out of Nathan's and wandered off a bit from the group to a tall oak tree. Footsteps followed me; glancing back I was Erick following me, "Are you okay?" he asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just taking a stroll down memory lane," I replied and sat down at the base of the tree.

"Care to share?" he asked while taking a seat next to me.

I pulled my knees up to my chest and wrapped my arms around them and rested my chin on my knees, "My parent's are, obviously, not my biological parents; in fact, father is technically my cousin. My mother was Sherlock's cousin, she died shortly after I was born; it wasn't till I was four that they adopted me. We used to come here almost every day so I could play, and it was right under this tree where I got my first play-scrape," I said.

Erick crossed his legs, "So where did you used to live? In an orphanage?"

I shook my head, "My biological father raised me for a while," I murdered

"Oh... did he pass away as well?"

"Yes... but that isn't the reason why I was adopted," I said. Erick raised an eyebrow, "In all honesty, I don't want to talk about it."

"That's fine... Can I ask how he died?"

I smirked, "He fell off of a boat and hit his head on some rocks, or so I have been told."

Confession on my end: I did it; he was my first kill. It happened three years ago, I was walking home when he dragged me into an unmarked car where the CCV camera's couldn't see me. We ended up on a boat - he planned on sailing off with me to who knows where - and he and his cronies tied me to the railing so I couldn't move. Needless to say, they sucked at tying knots and I was able to undo them easily, and when they were not looking, I knocked out the man that was guarding me, took his gun and took care of him. From there, I took care of the other three men and left my biological father for the last... In the end, when the authorities found the his body, it looked like he fell off of the boat and hit his head and drowned, most likely escaping from the flaming vessel.

"Damn, that sucks. So how did you come to be adopted; like, why did you get taken away?"

"This is actually kind of ironic," I laughed a bit, "DI Lestrade was leading a drug case, and during a drug bust he arrested my biological father and found me up in my room - I was only four at the time. I look so much like Sherlock, that he had a slight panic attack. Anyways, he called my Uncle once he took me to the hospital so I could be transferred to a local orphanage or foster house, and when my Uncle, he was even surprised for a bit. I gave them my name and told him who my parents were, from there he got a hold of my father and dad and three months later, I was adopted and have been with them ever since."

"That's actually... really cool," he said and smiled shyly.

I smiled back, "Yeah, it was only six weeks after meeting them that we came here I fell while playing. It was also the first time that I called father papa."

"You used to call him papa?"

I laughed, "Yeah, and still do when I want to get my way. It never fails." We sat there for a little while, just enjoying the muted sounds of London, "I think we need to go find the group before they start to panic."

Erick practically jumped up and offered me his hand, I grabbed it and all but flew up; he grabbed my elbow to help me steady myself. I tilted my head to say thank you, and it was then that I realized how close we had gotten. His head was only a few centimeters from mine and his pupils were dilated; his breath had gone shallow and his heart rate had increased...

I let go of his hand and took a step back, "Thanks for the help up. Where did everyone else go?"

The blood rushed to his cheeks, no doubt in embarrassment, but he cleared his throat and acted like nothing happened, "I think they were heading towards the picnic area up ahead."

I nodded and began to walk that way, but Erick grabbed my hand, "Um, listen, Jasmine... About that..."

"Not your fault," I said quickly and took my hand back.

Awkward does not even cover this. I began to walk away again, and this time he followed me without stopping me.

About five minutes later, we found everybody sitting at some wooden tables, "_So!_ The lovebirds return!" Nathan called.

I shot him a look, "Actually, I was telling him a story about my childhood," I said in a voice that could rival my father's coldness. He paled slightly but scooted over so Erick could sit next to him, "Bad luck, mate."

Taking a deep breath, I turned my back to them, "So, what do you guys want to do?"

It was like a ripple went through them as each of the group shrugged in response; great, just a boring night.

Sandy perked up, "How about we do some graffiti? You know, mark that we were actually in that place!"

"Are you sure? What if we get caught?" Amelia asked.

"We'll be fine!" Sandy assured her.

This wouldn't be a good idea, "How about instead we tour the haunted building?" Dae suggested.

Haunted? Impossible but sounds promising.

"I'm in," I said. Everyone else agreed as well and we made our way to the rundown part of the city. The crowds thinned out but also got shadier looking; ragged clothes and most likely strung out on some sort of substance.

The building itself was old and abandoned, has been for years and was condemned as well. Dae led the way to a broken door where we could enter easily at; the air smelled of mold and stale bodily fluids, this place is disgusting.

"It reeks in here!" Liz gagged.

"Could be worse, it could be the boy's locker room," Nathan replied.

I smirked and began to walk around, "Are you sure this place is 'haunted'?" I asked while doing my own air quotes.

"Yeah! I heard some seniors talking about it!"

I rolled my eyes and leaned against a semi-clean part of the wall. This place is regularly used as a drug exchange, but not very often... Why?

"I think we should leave," I muttered.

"We just got here!" Amelia protested.

"We _need_ to leave," I said and began to walk to the door, "Some one is here." In the silence I heard the floor boards squeak in another room, "Everyone, stay still and don't say a word," I hissed. Reaching to the waistband of my jeans, I pulled out the small pistol that I had stashed there and cocked it; raising a finger to my lips I crept to the entryway of the door to look down the hallway.

Glancing down, I saw a figure stumbling their way towards us, by their walk I would have to say that they are drunk. I flattened myself against the wall and motioned for everyone to get out of view, thankfully they listened. Closing my eyes, I let my other senses take over - I could hear the other person breathing (male, 30+ years, severely underweight, highly intoxicated, and he thinks that he is alone). Swallowing the saliva that had collected, I took a deep breath and could feel the adrenaline begin to pump through my body. It is this high which keeps me going.

I raised my gun slightly and rolled my weight on to my toes, preparing myself to confront the man.

The front door banged open, "Police!"

"Fuck!" I hissed and disengaged my gun and put it back in its place. "Follow me!" I whispered.

There were two officers, doing their nightly patrol, and _of course_ they had to come to this house!

I began to walk towards the exit when light filled the room, "Stop!" I froze and let my head hang in shame, "Turn around and put your hands in the air!"

"Relax Derek," I said and turned around with my hands in the air. Derek Baker has been an officer for about a year now and is one of the few that I can tolerate. His partner and senior officer on the other hand likes to make my life as difficult as possible, Wesley Yates.

"Well if it isn't Miss Jasmine!" Yates sneered, "What are you doing on private property?"

I bit my tongue and glanced behind me to see the rest of the group with their hands in the air as well. "I was just out with some friends from school, we were told this place was haunted and wanted to check it out," I replied in a controlled tone.

"You? Friends? Did she drag all of you along at gun point?" Yates asked in a mocking tone.

_Calm. Uncle Greg said that I'm not allowed to hit him_, I had to remind myself.

"N-no, sir. It was actually my idea," Dae spoke up.

Bless him!

"Really? I don't believe you. All of you can leave, but I think Jasmine needs to take a trip to the Yard with us," Yates said.

"Yates, really, cut her some slack," Derek said.

Yates turned to him, "If I cut her a break now, she will start prancing around the Yard like her bloody father does, and we don't need another one of him."

"Right, because all of you do such a great job on your own!" I snapped.

I saw his eye twitch in annoyance, "Hands against the wall."

I rolled my eyes and took out my gun, knives, and dagger and placed them on the ground, "There, I made your job easier. Now, put those in a bag so when I leave the Yard I can take those home."

Yates scowled and motioned for Derek to collect my small arsenal, "Any thing else?" Derek asked.

"Well, seeing as I am not taking my shoes off in here, no. I'll take them off when I get in the car." I turned to the group, "You guys go on ahead, I'll see you at school tomorrow."

"Not if I can help it; a night in a cell would do you some good," Yates snarled.

"But we both know that that isn't going to happen," I replied flippantly. "Lead the way!" I held my hands out and was promptly handcuffed by Yates.

"Is that really necessary?" Derek asked.

I smirked at him, "He's still mad that I'm able to put him flat on the floor before he can react, this just makes him feel better!" Yates pushed me to start walking, "So, what happened to the drunk that was in here?"

"He left," Yates snapped.

I nodded in absent agreement, "Can we turn the lights on? Perhaps the sirens? I bet you want to make a grand entrance while bringing me in."

No response.

"Wait!" Amelia came running up to us; I sighed and shook my head. "Take me with her, please."

"Amelia-"

"No, go back with the others," Yates snapped.

"No." Amelia had this look on her face, a look of pure determination.

I sighed, "Seriously Amelia, go on back. Someone needs to tell my parents where I am since I can't text them."

"Are you sure?"

I nodded; she nodded in return and left the building.

"So, can I call front seat?"

The back seat of a squad car is very uncomfortable, especially when your hands are trapped behind your back.

"Are we there yet?" I asked for about the fifth time in the last ten minutes. In response, Yates turned the radio up just a bit louder, "You won't be able to hear your scanner if you do that." Still no response. I exhaled as loudly as I could and leaned back into the seat, "I'm bored. Seriously though, how long does it take you to drive to Scotland Yard? If I were walking, I would already be there." Silence.

Eventually, we made it to Scotland Yard and Yates all but pulled me out of the backseat of the car and hauled me inside. As always, the building was busy and loud, but as I was escorted to the back to be put in a holding cell, it did get a bit quieter, but then the whispers started.

When we got in front of my cell - thankfully I got it all to myself - Yates unlocked my handcuffs and pushed me inside. With an ominous click of the lock, I was left to sit.

"What do you mean our daughter is sitting in a cell?" father's voice broke through the silence.

My escape is here.

"She was trespassing on private property," I heard Yates reply in a timid voice.

"So she was the only one that got persecuted? With all that she has done-"

"Sherlock," dad cut in.

There was a muted conversation... Why am I not out of this cell yet?

I sighed and practically banged my head against the wall, "Father? Dad?"

They walked around the corner and down the hall with Yates in tow, "Let her out, now," father hissed.

"Actually, I can't, Detective Inspector Lestrade can only do that, and since he won't be in till... What are you doing?"

Father took his phone out and dialed Lestrade's number, "Lestrade? No, no one is dead. Yes, I'm having an issue with one of your men, and yes it's Yates. Shut up and listen, this idiot _arrested_ Jasmine and she is now in a holding cell... Trespassing on private property... Yes, I know it's stupid... Okay." He hung up the phone and glared at Yates, "He will be here in ten minutes."

"Is Uncle Mycroft coming with him?" I asked innocently.

"Maybe," father drawled, "So I would suggest, that in the meantime, unlock the door and get her paper work ready; she does have school in the morning."

"You can't tell me what to do," Yates hissed.

"Yes I can, and I just did, now go do it."

If looks could kill, my father would be a dead man for the second time in his life.

Yates stormed off, mumbling under his breath.

"Officer!" I called to him in my sweetest voice; he turned around and glared, "The door?"

"Lestrade can do that," he spat and was out of our sights in under a minute.

"Looks like someone didn't get his cookie," I muttered and father even cracked a smile at that.

"Do you mind explaining how you ended up in this cell?" dad asked. His arms were crossed and he had that "I swear to god if I didn't love you, I would kill you" look on his face... That is supposed to be used only on father.

I took a deep breath and began, "After the movies, the group and I decided to walk around Hyde Park for a bit; Dae said he knew about a haunted house so we went to go check it out. Ends up - of course - that it was just an abandoned building. We were not even there for five minutes when Yates and Derek showed up, and once Yates saw that it was me, he put me in cuffs and brought me here."

"And what are you leaving out?"

Of course father knew that, "I'll tell you when we get home, let me just say it has been a long night." He nodded and wrapped one of his long arm around dad's waist while pressing a chaste kiss on his lips, "Seriously? I'm in a jail-cell, please no PDA!"

"Well I could just snog him right here and now," father teased.

"And Yates would make you clean up the vomit. Parent's making out, not what I ever want to see..."

Thank the universe that Lestrade has impeccable timing; he and Mycroft came walking down the hall with the cell keys hanging at his waist.

"Uncles!"

I got a wave from Lestrade and a nod from Mycroft; their clothes were a complete mess and I'm pretty sure I know what father interrupted them from... Not thinking about that.

"How is it that you seem to always get into trouble?" Greg asked as he unlocked the door.

"I blame Yates."

Uncle Greg gave me a scathing glare, "It is not always Yates that has to bring you in."

"This is only the... what is it now? Twenty-sixth time?"

"Twenty-seventh," father muttered.

"Okay, twenty-seventh, and out of those time, Yates has 'arrested' me twenty times, not including this time. So yes, it is Yates's fault." Although, I must admit, that this is the most ridiculous time, even passing out when Yates arrested me for "breaking and entering" on a crime scene - I was reenacting how the burglar got in.

Lestrade sighed and led us down the hall so my parents and I could sign the copious amount of pointless paperwork.

"You would think by now that they would have just made a stamp of our signatures," I heard dad mutter. I could hold back my laugh, that got me a disapproving glance from the receptionist; I gave her my most innocent grin, but she has known me ever since my parents started to bring me on cases so it didn't phase her.

"When did I stop being adorable?" I mumbled.

"Most likely when you started talking," Uncle Mycroft retorted.

I shot him a glare and crossed my arms across my, uncommonly, flat chest. Though, he is right, everyone was nicer to me when I was younger and didn't talk much. It's kind of an interesting story, how I was adopted and the events that lead up to it...

**FLASHBACK (age of four)**

The darkness protects me. Being silent is safe. Stay out of their way. Stay away from the bad men, daddy still loves you, daddy still loves you, daddy still loves you, daddy still...

"JASMINE!" my name was shouted from the other room. That voice, filled with rage and hunger... hunger for another fix.

"C-coming daddy!"

You must remain silent. Speak only when spoken to. Don't cough, no noise at all must be made.

I got off of my bed and slipped my old slippers on. My nightgown is old and faded, there are so many holes in this, but don't ask for a new one. Asking for new things makes him angry, oh so angry!

The living room was full of people, most of them men, only a few women but they were not nice ladies.

"Jasmine, there you are. Now, be a good girl for daddy and let me see your arm. Daddy has to demonstrate," he said and grabbed me. His eyes – dull and lifeless while on his high – didn't seem to actually see me, I was the test subject right now.

He tied a rubber thing around the crease of my elbow and waited for the rest of my arm to turn red.

Oh no, he has a needle. I hate needles.

Daddy put the needle in my arm and pushed the liquid in. My arm burns, why does it burn? Daddy it hurts!

Don't cry! Crying makes him angry!

"See! For an adult, the effect isn't as fast acting but the feeling is all of the same. Gotcha dearie," he said. I guess I fell over, but he caught me. Daddy always catches me.

Daddy loves me, daddy loves me, daddy loves me, daddy loves me, daddy...

My head hurts. My entire body hurts. Why do I hurt? Daddy?

No. Daddy put another needle in me.

Oh no, I passed out, I'm not supposed to pass out! He gets very angry when I sleep without his permission!

Sirens? Why are there sirens? There are no sirens in my room, my safe place... Am I not in my safe place? I need my safe place.

Bright lights! Very bright lights, they hurt my eyes. If I squint, it doesn't hurt as bad... The lights are changing colors; it's making me dizzy.

Shouting. Lot's of shouting. Men are shouting, the ladies are screaming... Is that daddy? He sounds very angry, oh so angry. Please don't make him angry! He isn't nice when he is angry!

Footsteps, loud footsteps, coming my way.

I need to hide, get away from the shouting and people.

Why can't I move?

What if it's daddy? He will be so angry if he sees that I've tried to move away from him.

My door is opening, that isn't daddy.

Brighter lights! They hurt! They burn my eyes.

"Sir! You might want to come in here!" one of the people said.

There are... more than five, I can't count any higher than promised that he would teach me to count.

"What is it? Oh God, is that... Call an ambulence... Do it now!"

So loud. Why are they shouting? Have I done something wrong?

One person comes over to me, a man... He looks older than daddy...

"Bring Plight in here, I need to question him."

Plight... That's my last name... Are they bringing me my daddy? I hope daddy is okay. Daddy loves me, daddy loves me, daddy loves me...

Two men left; they came back with my daddy. He looks hurt! He will be angry, oh so angry! I'm sorry daddy! I didn't do this, I promise!

"Is this your daughter?" the older man asked.

Daddy didn't say anything. Is he mad at me? Please don't be mad!

"I asked you a question!"

Shouting. I hate shouting.

"Yes, that's my daughter."

Oh he is angry!

"What did you give her? What is the matter with her? Anderson! Check her vitals, she doesn't look well."

I closed my eyes. No more men, please no more men! Daddy! Please no more men!

The new man touched my wrist and made me open an eye, then he felt my forehead. "Her heart beat is slow and she has a slight temperature, but she should be okay till the ambulance gets here."

"That's a relief."

Ambulance? Are they taking me away from daddy? No! Angry, oh so angry!

"Now, what did you give her?"

His voice sounds far away now... Did daddy answer him? Daddy hates questions, especially when it comes to his job... I still have a scar from when I asked... Then I had to try...

Darkness protects me. Being silent is safe.

"Jasmine? Hello? Jasmine? Can you hear me?"

I know that voice. Not daddy, but dadyd was there when I heard this voice. This voice is the older man, he made daddy very, very angry.

"Jasmine, if you can hear me, can you open your eyes?"

So bright! Brighter than before. White light. I know my colors, daddy taught me my colors so I could help.

"It's okay if you can't open your eyes, this must be really bright for you. My name is Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade. Can you talk?"

Being silent is safe.

I shook my head. That didn't feel good. My stomach feels like it is moving, it's making me cough. What is coming up?

Burning in my throat. Did they put a needle in my throat?

No, something is coming up. I can move!

My eyes opened by themselves and I rolled onto my side; gross liquid came up out of my mouth. I've seen this happen to my daddy's friends... Puking, I'm puking.

"Nurse!" Mr. Greg called.

Gasping, I'm gasping. I can't get enough air in, the lights are so bright, my head is pounding, my stomach won't stop moving. I'm dying, I must be dying.

Daddy will be angry if I die though!

Why are they pushing me up. I don't want to sit up! My body hurts, everything hurts!

I'm crying. Don't cry! Crying makes him angry! I can't stop crying, I can't breathe, my chest hurts, everything hurts! Daddy make it stop!

"Shh, shh! It's okay! Take a deep breath, everything will be okay. No one is going to hurt you here," a lady said.

I can't see her, why can't I see? Everything is so bright, nothing is there though! I can't stop crying!

"We need to sedate her, she is going into a full blown panic attack."

Sedate? What is sedate?

Something is over my face! Get it off! I'm trying but they are holding my arms, stop, it hurts!

I try to breath... Breathing is easier now... Everything is dimming... Oh, I can see them now, the lady looks nice...

Darkness protects me. Daddy loves me.


	3. Chapter 3

Beeping. Why is there beeping? There is no beeping in my safe place, my room, my home.  
I keep my eyes shut.  
What happened? Where am I? Daddy?  
I open my eyes, the light is off, but I am not in my room.  
This bed is comfy, and it smells clean. I smell clean. The room smells clean.  
Where is my daddy?  
Footsteps? Yes, many footsteps.  
Beep, beep, beep.  
The beeping is annoying.  
My door is opening and four people enter – a woman and three men.  
I know him, he looks familiar... The older man... Detective Greg. He made daddy angry, so very, very angry!  
"...saw her, I almost had a panic attack!She looked so much like – oh, your up!" the detective said.  
Don't move. Be silent, as silent as you can.  
Detective Greg turned the light on; it doesn't hurt my eyes as much this time.  
One man has a white coat on, he looks younger than the detective but a bit older than the other man. A doctor? I've never met a doctor. Daddy doesn't like doctors.  
The other man has a suit on; occasionally daddy will wear a suit if he is meeting rich people. The lady is standing next to him and is on her phone; why does that man have an umbrella?  
"Hello again, Jasmine. I brought some people to meet you, is that okay?" the detective asked.  
Why is he asking me? I don't get to make decisions, daddy makes all of the decisions.  
"She hasn't spoken ever since we got her here, the nurses and the other doctors say that she is in shock. Can't blame her with the state that we found her in."  
Shock?  
"She does look like the spitting image of Sherlock... Mycroft, are you sure that he never..." the doctor stopped talking, but he sounded like he was asking the suit man a question.  
"I can assure you, John. Yet this does raise some questions. In truth, this could be just a coincidence, but the likeness is so uncanny. Jasmine, right?"  
I nodded.  
"What are your parent's names?" the suit man asked.  
Do I answer? Daddy said not to talk to strangers.  
I drew my knees up to my chest and tried to wrap my arms around them, but there were tubes coming out of my arms.  
Why are there tubes in my arms? Are there needles?  
"Jasmine? Jasmine, calm down. It's okay. Take a deep breath. Look at me, can you do that sweetheart?"  
The doctor was at the side of the man and placed a hand on my shoulder; I shrank away but looked at him.  
"Okay, I know that this is scary, I really do, but you have to listen to me, okay? These," he pointed to the tubes, "have medicine in them to make you better. You were really sick."  
Medicine? The only medicine I've ever had was that yucky cough-syrup.  
"That's a good girl, just calm down, everything will be okay. My name is John Watson, I'm a doctor here. You've been to the doctor's before, right?"  
I shook my head; this man is nice.  
"Really? Hmm, do you want me to tell you about my job?"  
I nodded.  
He smiled, "Do you mind if I sit here?" he pointed at the edge of the hospital bed.  
I shook my head and moved my feet over, he sat down.  
"Thank you. Now, before I tell you about my job, my friend here needs to ask you some questions about your parents, okay?"  
I bit my lip; would daddy get mad at this?  
My throat is so dry.  
"May I have something to drink?" I asked. My voice was quite.  
"Of course. Do you want some water or juice?"  
Juice?  
"Um, is juice good?"  
"Yes, very. I'll have a nurse bring you some." He reached behind me and pressed a button, "This is Dr. Watson, would you bring some apple juice to room 316 please?"  
There was no reply but the doctor looked unconcerned.  
"Okay, they will be bringing that up here in just a moment. For now, would a glass of water be okay? There is a glass on the table," he said and handed it to me.  
It was cold and the best thing I have ever drank. I had the entire thing drunk in under a minute.  
"Better?" I nodded. "Okay, can Mycroft ask you some questions now?"  
"Where is my daddy?" I asked.  
The detective stepped forward a bit, "He had to go away for a while, but we will be taking care of you."  
I bit my lip, "Did he go to jail? For his drugs?"  
All four of the people looked a bit shocked, "Uh, yes, yes he did."  
I nodded, "Drugs are bad, right?"  
"Yes, very bad."  
"Okay."  
There was a short period of silence, but the suit man cleared his throat and sat in one of the chairs in the room. "Now Jasmine-"  
"When will daddy get out?" I asked.  
"It depends when the judge says he can," the detective said.  
"Will he know that we spoke?" He can't know, he would be so angry.  
"He doesn't have to know, do you want him to?"  
I shook my head, "He would be angry... very angry if he knew. Daddy isn't nice when he is angry."  
No one replied to that.  
The suit man spoke again, "Jasmine, what is your mother's name?"  
"My mother? I-I don't know. Daddy said she went to heaven after I was born... What is heaven?"  
"Oh. Heaven is a place where good people go when they... leave this world," John said.  
I nodded, "Okay... Why do you need to know her name? Daddy knows her name."  
"Your daddy won't tell us her name... Mycroft, couldn't you pull her birth-certificate?" the detective asked.  
"It is being done as we speak. Someone should be delivering it shortly." The suit man talks funny. "I do say, though, she does look very familiar, and not just to my brother."  
"You have a brother?" I asked. The suit man nodded, "Does he talk like you?"  
"Talk like me?"  
I nodded, "You don't talk like a normal person. You say the same words but the way you say them is... I think the word is posh. Is that right?"  
John and Greg laughed, so did the lady; the suit man looked confused.  
"How old are you?" the suit man asked.  
"Four... I think," I said.  
"You don't talk like a four-year-old," he replied.  
"And you have less hair for a...forty year-old?"  
He raised an eye-brow at me, "What makes you say that I'm forty?"  
"Well...um..." People never like it when I do this.  
"It's okay, you are right, but I want to know how you know."  
I stared down at my hands in my lap, "Well, for one, the way you talk, you don't use any common terms that people younger than you do. You used to stand very straight and walked fast, but recently you have started to slow down and slouch due to age. The wrinkles around your eyes are becoming noticeable and you try to hide them by using some sort of cream... I thought only women used those? Also, your teeth are in good condition, but the front left one is a tiny bit shorter than the right one from chewing which takes many years."  
The suit man looked surprised, "Well then... this is a surprise."  
"I swear if we do have another one of your brother, England is doomed," John laughed.  
The lady had her hand over her mouth, she was laughing.  
"How did you learn to do that?" the suit man asked, "Did someone teach you?"  
I shook my head, "I had to know what type of people I was around... Some of them were not nice. I wanted to be able to tell who was and who wasn't, so I started to...observe? Yes, observe, so I could stay safe. Daddy didn't always bring nice people home."  
"I see... What about John? What can you tell about him?"  
I looked at the doctor... So this is okay? "Well, um, he..." I closed my eyes and made myself focus, "He takes a cab to work every day; actually he shouldn't even be at work right now but you made him come in. That wasn't nice, he is really, really tired. He needs to sleep. He had toast and strawberry jam for breakfast. He is a very nice man, but you have bad dreams. It's okay, I have bad dreams to... But someone makes your bad dreams go away, you're very lucky to have that. There is a bruise on your neck, did someone punch you? That wasn't nice of them, but they must have had small hands..."  
"I think that that is enough," he said and placed a hand over the bruise.  
Greg laughed, "Someone had fun last night!"  
"Why is getting a bruise fun? Besides, you have one too!"  
His face turned red and he sent a stern look to the suit man.  
But the suit man doesn't have small hands!  
There was a knock at the door and a lady walked in with an envelope and a cup; she gave me the cup and the envelope to the suit man, "This was dropped off for you, sir."  
He nodded and opened the envelope.  
I looked into the cup; the liquid was sort of a yellow color.  
"It looks like piss," I said. "I don't want to drink piss."  
"It's juice, not pee. Also, piss is a bad word for someone your age to say," John said.  
"Why is piss a bad word?"  
"Because it is a grown-up word."  
"Why?"  
"Because the Queen says so."  
"Oh! I won't say it again."  
"Good, now, just try the juice, it tastes good."  
I took a sip... okay, he was right. I looked over at the suit man, he was staring at the paper. "What is that?" I asked after taking another drink.  
"Your birth-certificate," he said. He looked like he was going to be sick.  
"Mycroft, what's the matter?" Greg asked.  
"Nothing. Now if you will excuse me, I need to call my brother," he said as he stood up and walked out the door.  
"Why do I have a feeling that this isn't good?" John asked Greg.  
"I've got the same feeling. He looked as though he saw a ghost... This case just keeps getting weirder by the minute," he mumbled.  
The suit man – Mycroft, I'm calling him Mike – walked back in, "My brother will be here in a few moments."  
"Would you care to explain as to why?" John asked.  
"Not at the moment."  
Did I do something wrong? Is my mommy a bad person?  
"Wh-what is my mommy's name?" I asked him.  
"Her name was Lenora," he said.  
Lenora... That's a pretty name.  
"What is my daddy's first name?"  
"You don't know? Then again, you are just four. His name is Jeffery."  
Lenora and Jeffery... That doesn't sound well together.  
The room was quite except for the sound of the people out in the hallway. "So, um, where am I?" I asked.  
"St. Bart's hospital," John said.  
"And you're a doctor here? What do you do? You said you were going to tell me," I reminded him.  
"Right, right. Well, as a doctor, I help people get better. When they are sick, I give them medicine to get better, and if they are hurt, I help patch them up. For instance, if someone were to come in with a broken arm, I would put a cast on it so it could heal right."  
"My daddy broke someone's arm once... It sounded bad. I was in my room and I could hear a loud crack, and when I went to the living room, the man's arm was weird looking. Daddy said he broke it because he didn't give him his money... Did you fix that man's arm?"  
"Um, maybe. I don't know who that man is."  
"Neither do I. He was a bad man though. He had asked daddy is he could buy me, but daddy told him no."  
John looked shocked, "He asked...if he could..."  
"Buy me. I don't know what that means, though," I told him.  
"Jasmine," Greg said, I looked at him, "did any of your father's friends... touch you?"  
"I'm not supposed to talk about that,"I whispered. Greg and John looked at each other, John nodded.  
"That's fine. Did your daddy ever let you try any of his drugs?" Greg asked.  
"I was his... demonstration? I think that was the word he used." John was looking angry, almost as angry as daddy. I closed my mouth and shut my eyes.  
Don't be angry.  
I messed up. I'm not supposed to talk about that.  
Daddy will be angry, so angry!  
Darkness, I need darkness. Darkness protects me. Silence keeps me safe.  
Why did I tell them?  
Now they are angry! I'll be punished.  
"Jasmine? Are you okay?" John asked me. He didn't sound angry.  
I didn't reply, silence keeps me safe. Silence keeps them happy.  
"Jasmine, please answer me. I'm not angry at you, okay?"  
Don't answer! Stay quite! Stay still!  
I wrapped my arms around my waist and leaned my head against my knees.  
"It's okay, alright? Talk when you're ready." John got off of the bed, "Let's give her some space. We don't want her to go into another panic attack."  
I peeked out of one eye and saw everyone leave the room, Mycroft shut the light off as he left.  
"Thank you," I whispered.  
Darkness protects me. Silence keeps me safe. Being still lets me live. Daddy still loves you, daddy still loves you, daddy still loves you.

I guess I fell asleep. I don't remember lying down, and the tubes in my arms are gone.  
There were voice outside of my room, one was John, but who was the other one? I couldn't tell what they were saying, only the sound of their voice.  
"...needs to sleep! She has been through a lot."  
"I won't wake her up, I'm just going to look in. I promise to be quite," the other voice said. It was very deep, it reminded me of my safe place for some reason – dark and warm.  
I sat up and waited for them to come in; a very tall man entered my room – he was wearing a long coat and a scarf... It's the middle of summer though.  
"You're awake. Interesting."  
John was right behind him – he looks like a dwarf next to him!  
The tall man walked over to me and sat on the edge of my bed, "I've heard that you gave Scotland Yard quite a shock. You do look a bit like me, even I will admit that, although you are more so the spitting image of your mother. We always did get asked if we were siblings," the man muttered.  
I tilted my head to the side and stared at the man – he had the same color of eyes that I do, and dark hair like me. He was so pale though, but then again, I am too.  
We stared at each other for a few moments, neither of us speaking.  
John coughed, "Right then, Jasmine, this is Sherlock Holmes, Mycroft's brother."  
"You've met my brother already. Tell me, is he as fat as always?"  
"Sherlock!"  
"I've seen fatter," I replied. This man is smart, really smart... He seems... different.  
The man did a half-smile, "I bet you have, what with the company that your father keeps."  
"Most of them are skinny, skinnier than you."  
"That's called anorexic."  
"Anorexic? What does that mean?"  
"Severely underweight. If they have their shirt off, their ribs are very visible; they may look like a skeleton with a thin layer of skin on."  
"I get called a skeleton," I mumbled.  
"Not your fault. Your father has obviously not been taking care of you. I'll have to speak to him about that."  
"Daddy doesn't like it when people are mean to him."  
"He will just have to get over that then."  
"He get's angry."  
"Oh well."  
"He isn't nice when he is angry."  
"You won't have to deal with him anymore."  
I stared at him, "What?"  
"If all goes according to plan, you won't be living with him anymore, so it doesn't matter if he is angry or not."  
Not...living...with...daddy?  
"Sherlock, she doesn't need to know this yet," John told him; he sat down on the other side of my bed.  
"Yes she does. It is obvious that she is living in fear because of him. Look at her, John! Look at how he has treated her! And from what you have told me, she could have been dead by now because of the way that he was treating her! I promised Lenora-"  
"Who is Lenora anyways? Mycroft wouldn't tell me," John asked.  
The tall man took a deep breath, "Lenora was my cousin; we grew up together as children. She was my only friend for many, many years. When we were younger, we each made a promise to each other that if we ever had children, and the matter arose, we would look after the other's child. I have every intention of keeping that promise."  
I looked at the tall man – his eyes were serious. John looked shocked, "You mean... We need to talk."  
"Then talk now."  
"Not in front of Jasmine."  
"Yes, in front of Jasmine. She needs to know this as well."  
"She is just a child!"  
"She is my family."  
His family? "Family? Daddy said he was my only family."  
The tall man, Sherlock, turned to me, "Your father lied. Your mother was my cousin, so that makes me your cousin."  
"Cousin? What is a cousin?"  
"It goes like this, my father had a brother, that brother was my Uncle, my Uncle had a daughter, your mother who was also my cousin. Understand?" I nodded. "Good. Now, John, what do we need to talk about."  
The doctor looked a bit uncomfortable, "Sherlock, you are talking about, I think, adopting her, right?" He nodded. "Are you sure we are ready for that type of responsibility."  
"Whether we are or not, she will not go into an orphanage and she will never go back to that man. I've talked to Mycroft about it, he agrees with me and can have the paperwork ready within a month."  
"What is adopt?"  
"Adopting is when one or two people acquire permanent custody of a child," Sherlock said.  
"What is custody?"  
"Basically, you would come live with us instead of with your father," John said.  
"You two live with each other?"  
"Yes."  
"Are you married?"  
"No."  
"Dating?"  
"Yes."  
"I didn't know two men could date. Daddy said that they shouldn't."  
"Your father is an idiot," Sherlock spat.  
This man doesn't like daddy... "Why don't you like my daddy?"  
"Because of the way that he has raised and treated you."  
"Daddy said that it's normal though."  
"He is wrong. How you have been raised is vile and wrong."  
I blinked a few times...wrong?  
"Wrong? How?"  
Sherlock took a deep breath, "Great, you've been brain-washed to thinking that the drug life is acceptable. How do I put this simply? In short, no one should ever be treated the way that you were. You should never have been a test subject for his drugs, nor as a means of payment. Children are meant to be loved and cherished, not used."  
"Daddy loves me."  
Sherlock blinked, "Say that again."  
"Daddy loves me." Daddy loves me, daddy loves me, daddy loves me, daddy loves me...  
"Jasmine?"  
Daddy loves me, daddy loves me, daddy loves me, daddy loves me. Daddy promised that he loves me! Daddy keeps me safe, he loves me, he still loves me, he still loves me, he still loves me, he still loves me...  
"Jasmine! Can you hear me?"  
...loves me, loves me, loves me, loves me, loves me, lov...  
There was a sharp pain across my face. My cheek hurts, it burns! Why...What?  
"Sherlock! You didn't have to slap her!"  
"Did you not hear her? She was losing it."  
"But you didn't have to slap her!"  
Yelling, shouting. Angry, oh so angry. Don't be angry, don't be angry. I promise I didn't mean to, I promise.  
"Jasmine? Dearie, you need to calm down, it's okay," the doctor said. He placed a hand on my shoulder.  
I curled into a ball and leaned away. It's not okay! If I don't go home to daddy, he will be so angry! He will use more needles! Needles hurt, the make me burn, they make me sick. Daddy doesn't like it when I'm sick! I can't be sick!  
Must make daddy happy, must make him happy, when I make daddy happy he loves me. Daddy loves me! Daddy promised that he loves me!  
"Jasmine. Look. At. Me." Sherlock was leaning towards me; I hid my face. "No. Look at me, no one is angry at you. I know you can hear me. Pay attention and look at me." I peeked at him, "Come on, you don't have to hide. I'm sorry I slapped you, you were going into hysteria. Now, I'm going to ask you a few questions, alright? You may not want to answer them in fear of your father, but I can assure you, he will never be able to hurt you again. Will you please sit up properly? There, that's good. Would you like some more to drink? How about some juice, I'm sure John can go and get you some more." I nodded, the juice was good. "What type of juice would you like? I was told that you had apple earlier, would you like to try grape juice? Alright, John, if you would please?"  
I glanced over at John, he had an amazed look on his face, "Hmm, uh, yeah, grape juice."  
He got up and left the room; Sherlock sat himself farther on the bed and leaned back on his arms.  
"So, what is your room like at your house?" he asked me.  
My room? "Um... it's small."  
"Really? What color are your walls?"  
"Sort of white."  
"Sort of white? How so?"  
"There are stains on the wall."  
"What kind of stains? From crayons?"  
"No, I wasn't allowed crayons."  
"Really? Would you like some?"  
"I-I guess... I've never played with them."  
"I'll bring some tomorrow. Would you like that?" I nodded. "Alright then. Now, what type of stains are on your walls?"  
"Red and yellow stains, a few green ones."  
"What are the stains from?"  
" I don't know. Daddy never told me."  
"I see. What is your favorite toy?"  
"I didn't have toys."  
"Not even a stuffed animal?"  
"No."  
"How about books?"  
"I only have one book, it's about a knight and a dragon."  
"Can you read it?"  
"No, but one of daddy's lady friends read it to me once."  
"That was nice of her."  
"She was nice."  
"What was the book about?"  
"A knight had to save a princess by killing the dragon."  
"You don't seem to happy by that."  
"The dragon should have killed them both."  
"Why is that?"  
"'Cause the dragon could breathe fire and the knight was mean."  
"I see. I'm guessing that you like dragons then?"  
I nodded, "They can fly and breathe fire."  
"I like dragons as well. In fact, one of my favorite stories has a dragon in it."  
"Does the dragon kill everyone?"  
"He tries to, but he doesn't succeed."  
"That sucks."  
"It does indeed."  
"What is the story called?"  
"The Hobbit."  
"Would you read it to me?"  
Sherlock tilted his head to one side, "Yes, I can."  
"Thank you."  
"No trouble at all. How about clothes? Did you have a lot of clothes?"  
I shook my head, "I had three shirts, a nightgown, and two pairs of pants."  
"What about shoes and undergarments?"  
"Two pairs of shoes and my slippers. My underwear was okay."  
"I see. When you get better, would you like to go shopping for clothes and toys?"  
"Can I get books?"  
"Of course."  
"Okay. Will I really live with you?"  
"If you would like to."  
"Where else would I go?"  
"Most likely to an orphanage with other children."  
"What is an orphanage?"  
"A place for children who don't have any parents."  
"But I have my daddy."  
"You daddy will most likely be going to prison for quite a long time."  
"Oh... Because of his drugs?"  
"Yes, that and other things."  
"What other things?"  
"Child abuse and neglect, unlawful possession of firearms, prostitution, unlawful gambling, dog fighting, and anything else the Yard can charge him with."  
"Oh... What is your job?"  
"Hmm?"  
"John says he is a doctor, are you a doctor too?"  
"No, I'm a private detective."  
"Like Greg?"  
"Who?"  
"He was here with your brother."  
"Oh, Lestrade. No, not like him; he works with Scotland Yard, I work by myself although John does occasionally help me."  
"What do you do?"  
"I solve mysteries. If people need my help with something, they pay me to solve their mystery."  
"Cool. What type of mysteries?"  
"Affairs, missing pets – those are boring though –, missing people, kidnappings, and my favorite, murders."  
"So you've seen a dead body?"  
"Many."  
"So have I."  
"Really? How so?"  
"One of daddy's friends over-dosed on meth and died. We had to burn the body in the alley-way."  
"That is...disturbing."  
"It didn't smell good."  
"I would say not. Burning flesh is an appalling smell."  
"I got sick afterward, so did daddy."  
"Interesting. Did no one notice that there was a fire in an alleyway?"  
"We did it in a dumpster so no one would see the flames."  
"What about the smoke and smell?"  
"No one cared."  
He nodded, "What type of friends did your father have?"  
"Different types."  
"Were any of them nice to you?"  
"A few. One time one of them brought me a cupcake on my birthday."  
"That was considerate of them. How about the ones that were not nice?"  
"I don't want to talk about them."  
"Why not?"  
"Daddy told me not to."  
"Your father isn't here."  
I bit my lip and shook my head, I can't talk about those men.  
"Maybe some other day then. How about your father? Was he nice to you?"  
"Some of the time, when he wasn't high on his drugs."  
"What was he like when he was high?"  
"Angry and hungry for everything."  
"I see. What about when he isn't high?"  
"He mainly just sits on the couch and watches the telly."  
He nodded again; John came back into the room with another cup. He handed it to me – the liquid was purple; I took a sip, this tastes good, too.  
"So what have you two been talking about?" the doctor asked.  
"This and that really," Sherlock replied.  
I think I like the apple juice better.  
"Jasmine, are you feeling well enough to eat something? The canteen is making spaghetti for dinner tonight. Would you like some?"  
"I've never had spaghetti."  
John's eyebrows shot up in surprise, "Really? Then again, if this is your first time having spaghetti, I wouldn't suggest here."  
"I can call Angelo's and make a carry-out order. We haven't ate there in a while."  
"That will work. Do you mind if we have dinner with you?"  
Dinner with me? I shook my head.  
"Excellent, I'll call now then."

It has been three weeks now since I've met Sherlock and John. They visit me every day, and so do Lestrade and Mycroft. The other doctors here are very nice and the nurses always bring me chocolate when they check on me – these people are really nice.  
I've decided that I really do want to live with John and Sherlock, they treat me like I'm their child anyways. Mycroft said that he will start working on the adoption papers as soon as my daddy is sentenced, he can't do the paperwork anyways till then. Thankfully, tomorrow is his court date; I want to see my daddy, I really do, but Lestrade says that that wouldn't be a good idea since I'm not completely better yet.  
Sherlock brought me some clothes the other day – a few pairs of pants, two pairs of pajamas, some shirts, underwear, socks, and some dragon slippers. He is also reading The Hobbit to me every night, so far we are at the part when Bilbo meets Smaug (he can do a very terrifying voice for him).  
I also met Molly Hooper a few weeks ago, she visits almost everyday as well. She is very nice too; her and Sherlock occasionally work together since she works with the dead bodies. Molly said that when I get better, if I want to come over and meet her cat, I can. I like cats, but not as much as dragons.  
Today though, I get to leave the hospital, but I have to temporarily stay at an orphanage until the paperwork is done. Mycroft says that it is the best one in all of London, and that John and Sherlock have special privileges to take me out into the city during the day – I just have to be back by eight in the evening.  
The doctors are happy with my recovery; they say that I'm almost to a healthy weight and all of the drugs are out of my system.  
I've decided that since I will be living with John and Sherlock, that they are my new dads; well, I've sort-of started calling Sherlock papa in my head and John is dad, it fits them.

"Are you ready?" papa asked me.  
All of my clothes were packed, and I had on a pair of black pants and a blue shirt, my hair was in a braid – Molly did it for me, she said that she will teach me how to do it myself.  
"Yep! Are we still going to get ice-cream?"  
"You promised her ice-cream?" dad asked him?  
"Naturally, today is a day to celebrate."  
Oh yes, today is a good day, and I have a feeling that the days will just keep getting better.  
~End Flashback~

"Jasmine! It's time to get up for school!" dad hollered from the bottom of the stairs.  
Huh, I actually fell asleep; that's odd. My childhood did have a happy ending though.


	4. Chapter 4

~Six months later~

Winter break has just ended, and it was the first day back for the second semester. So far, high-school isn't as bad as I thought it would be. Erick hasn't tried to kiss me again – although he has attempted to ask me out, but he starts to stutter and then stops – and Sandy and Liz have been going steady.

Amelia and I spent a lot of time together over the break, even her cat stayed with us a few times. Father tried to get Amelia to let him experiment on it, but she was adamant that the cat was to be left alone.

No one bother's the group anymore, not after the public humiliation of that blonde girl – can't bring myself to remember her name. In fact, the social status of the group has gone up because of that.

The majority of my classmates still despised me, but none of them dared taunt nor insult me in fear that their darkest secrets would be made public.

I love snow, and I love winter, even when walking to school in it. Waving to every CCV camera that I see, I made my way down the busy morning sidewalks to make it to school on time. People were bundled in their warmest coats, scarves, gloves, and hats while they headed to their destinations.

"Jasmine! Wait up!"

Great. Her.

During the beginning of November, a new girl decided to join the group, her name is Traci Ingram. She is one of those squealing fan-girls about my parents, and never shuts up about how "hot and sexable" they are. It was a unanimous decision to not tell her that I am their daughter.

Traci is a sophomore and comes from a middle-class family; she has light brown hair and dark eyes, she is just a tad taller than I am, and puberty has caught fully up to her. She is so ordinary that she is never any fun to deduce, hell, Dae was able to tell everything about her on the first day; needless to say, she was impressed.

"Hello Traci," I said and continued to walk as she ran to catch up to me.

"Ohmygod! Did you hear what happened last night? Sherlock caught that bank robber! He is just so dreamy! It's such a shame that he is gay! I heard.."

Did I mention that her voice is nasally and annoying?

And it wasn't my father who caught him, I did. Father decided to take a left down the bank's hallway instead of a right; with a well aimed stiletto, the man was temporarily paralyzed till the Yard got there to get him, but father got the credit since I chose to stay out of the media.

She prattled the rest of the way to school, but by this time I could tune her out as well as I do Yates.

The school was only a bit warmer than outside, and as we made our way to the table before classes start, Traci ruffled her hair a bit and pulled out a mirror to check her make-up.

"Do I look okay? I was hoping that Erick would notice me today."

"You look fine." Subtext: you look like a painted cow but oh well.

She has been pining after Erick ever since she started hanging out with the group, but he never gives her much attention, just enough to be polite. Honestly, I wish he would pay attention to her and just leave me alone.

Amelia and Sandy were already at the table; their heads were practically touching as they gossiped together.

"Hey guys, how was your Christmas break?" I asked as I took my usual seat.

"Mine was amazing! Look what Liz got me!" Sandy said as she showed off her new necklace. It was a dainty thing – 7k gold with a sapphire heart.

"OMG! That is gorgeous!" Traci gushed.

Who the hell actually speaks text lingo?

"Thank you! I felt so bad though! I got her the newest book from that American author that she likes, I feel like such a cheapskate!"

"Did she like it though?" Amelia asked.

"She loved it, but still!"

"It's the thought that counts, not the money," I told her. "Hell, my Uncle got me a new set of throwing knives for Christmas and I made him a fat-free chocolate cake so it wouldn't mess up his diet. I'm pretty sure he was happier about his gift than I was about mine, and I was pretty damn happy!"

Everyone laughed, "Yeah, I guess you're right. Oh, and speaking of that sexy devil!"

Liz came walking up to the table and swooped down and captured Sandy's lips in a kiss, "Guys! PDA!"

"We are women, not _guys_, and I will kiss my beautiful girlfriend if I want to, so hush!" Liz scolded me. She sat down next to Sandy and wrapped her arm around her waist, Sandy in turn leaned back and rested her head on Liz's shoulder.

"You guys are just so cute!" Traci squealed.

Again, with the squealing.

Amelia and I shared a look – we both despise her.

Dae, Erick, and Nathan joined the table within the next five minutes; Traci was all but hanging off of Erick trying to get his attention.

"So, Jasmine, how was your Christmas? Get anything good?" Dae asked.

"Some new knives, some clothes, books, got to go to a meet and greet of the Doctors from Doctor Who – they had some sort of reunion a week before Christmas."

"WHAT?!" almost everyone yelled.

"Wh-how!" Nathan asked.

"The producer owed my father a favor," I said.

"What does your father do for a living?" Traci asked, "You are always getting to do cool stuff because of him!"

"Like I said, he works for the government." That is what we have been telling her.

"You are so lucky! So how was it?" Liz asked.

"It was awesome. I got to take pictures with the actors and the writers. Everyone was really nice," I said.

My father actually helped the director/writer find his dog – it had gotten out and no one could find it. He had called my father after the dog had been missing for three days, and we found it in under an hour; the man was so grateful that he said that if we ever needed anything, just to let him know. Well, father called in the favor as mine and dad's Christmas present since he couldn't figure out what to get us.

"Can we see?" Amelia asked.

"Sure," I said and pulled my phone out of my pocket. I opened the pictures and let everyone go through them (these had their own folder).

The phone was passed around the table and ended up in Traci's hands.

She was going through them, commenting on the actors, but then she stopped and her mouth was gaping open, "Sherlock Holmes was there? Ohmigod! Was he there on a case? Oh! There's John Watson! I bet there was a case! I cannot wait to read it on his blog! Who's that in between them? It sort of looks like...you? You are so lucky!" I swear this girl is dumber than a box of rocks. "So was he on a case?"

"No, he wasn't," I said, "He just decided to pop in."

Amelia had her hand covering her mouth, trying not to life... Actually everyone was except for Traci.

"If I were to ever meet him, I would just swoon!" she said.

I rolled my eyes and took my phone back, "The bell is about to ring. See you guys later," I said and stood up. The bell rang and the entire student body began to maneuver their way to their classes.

Economics class: 1st period

"Today class, all of you will write a paragraph or two describing what your parents or guardians do in their career. When you are finished, everyone will give a brief summary of the job description and will then explain the roll it takes in our society. You have twenty minutes, begin," Mr. Reed said.

Well, fuck.

I stood up and approached his desk, "Mr. Reed? I can't tell anyone what my parents do. It's classified."

"Jasmine, I'm well aware of who your parents are, and it is not classified."

"Well I don't want the class to know. That was the agreement with the superintendent."

"Then you will not receive any marks for this assignment."

"Fine."

Chemistry: 2nd period

"Now, take the hydrochloric acid and put 3ml into the beaker- No! What are you doing?" the teacher yelled.

I glanced to my left and my partner was pouring the entire amount of 6ml acid into the beaker with 5ml of Zinc. Not to mention, the dumb-ass had the beaker next to the Bunsen burner, which was lit.

On instinct, I grabbed my partner's arm – a senior football player – and pushed him out of the way. The compound exploded – glass shattered and flames spread.

The teacher, Mr. Trep, grabbed the fire-extinguisher and began to get rid of the flames. He turned to me and panic was in his eyes.

"What? Is something burning?... It's my hair, isn't it?"

Music: 3rd period:

I had to take a quick trip to the nurse's office to get a few burns patched up. Part of my hair is singed off – thankfully just the ends of my braid, with a quick brush, it was decent again – and their were at least ten holes in my hoodie, and half of my left eyebrow was singed as well.

When I walked in to class, I was five minutes late – I silently handed over the nurses note and grabbed my violin from the shelf where I keep it. I took my seat and opened my case... apparently someone thought it would be funny to replace the bow with a feather-duster.

"Who the _fuck messed with my violin?_" I asked.

Everyone turned to look at me; I scanned the crowd – there, the piano player. I stood up, opened the top of the piano, and grabbed the bow. No one said a single word the entire event.

History: 4th period

Finally, I have friends in this class!

Erick was sitting towards the back of the class, I walked over and took the desk next to him.

"How's school going so – where is your eyebrow?" he asked, "And half of your hair?"

"Is it really half of my hair? I didn't think it was that much," I muttered and pulled my braid around to check it.

"What happened?" he asked again.

"Chemistry accident. The idiot wasn't watching what he was doing."

Mrs. Wysong entered into the classroom – her baby-bump is getting huge – and sat carefully into her chair. "Good day class! I hope everyone's winter break was good. I've got a chart made up for assigned seating – don't give me any lip! The chart is on the projector, find your seat."

She had me sitting in the middle of the popular kids, smack in the middle! I gathered my things and took my seat. So far, this semester sucks.

Lunch:

The food here sucks. The majority of the people here are idiots. It smells like body-odor and cheap perfume. Why did I want to go to a public school again?

I grabbed my tray – a poor excuse for chicken and vegetables – and made my way to the table. Some idiot – one of those want-to-be gangsters – ran into me and knocked my food into the floor and all over my front.

Anger. Embarrassment. Shame. More anger. All of this was coursing through me.

"Watch where you're going! Dumb bitch," the boy spat.

_Snap._

My arm reached out on it's own accord and grabbed the boy's wrist; I twisted up, pulled it behind his back, swept his feet out from beneath him and threw him to the floor.

"Watch who you call a bitch," I hissed and let him go. I went to walk away, but apparently people don't know when to stop.

The boy got up and swung at me; I dropped to my knees and spun to face him. I threw a punch out and caught him on the outside of his left thigh, grazing a pressure point. He stumbled but went to kick at me. I rolled out of his reach and got up – by this time, there was a crowd forming around us.

He reached out and grabbed my hoddie's sleeve; unknown to the general population, the hoddie is actually two sizes to big, and I slipped out of it easily leaving me in a black tee-shirt. The boy let my hoddie drop and rushed at me again; I dodged his punches easily, but soon I was backed against one of the pillars in the cafeteria – used for support. He drew his arm back and was getting ready to punch me, but I pulled two of my knives from the waistband of my pants, drove them into the pillar and hoisted myself up. When his fist connected with the pillar, I was holding myself up-side-down by my knives while looking down at him. I let myself fall back down; my feet connected with his back, smashing him into the pillar. I landed in a defensive stance, my knives resting flat against my forearms but arms out and ready.

"What is going on?" a voice yelled.

I straightened up and saw the superintendent making his way through the crowd of people. The boy was lying on the floor, his nose broken and gushing blood – he probably has a concussion.

Quickly, I placed my knives back and picked my hoddie up off the ground and put it back on.

"Jasmine Watson? What the hell happened?" he asked me.

I met his eyes, "He insulted me."

"My office. Now. I'm calling your parents."

Lovely, just what I needed.

Mr. Simole is generally a decent enough man, but he hates violence. At the current moment, I was sitting in a chair outside of his office door while he spoke with the boy – Jeremy Illurm – and his parents about the incident. My father has decided not to show up yet, and dad is still at the clinic working.

Eventually, Mr. Simole was done speaking with the Illurm family and sent them out and called for me to come on in.

"So, where are your parents?" he asked.

I shrugged, "Most likely, dad is still working and my father is either on a case or ignoring his phone. He has those days."

He took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose, "Well I need to speak with them, I'll try calling again. Is there an alternate number?"

"Can I just text him?" I asked. He nodded and I pulled my phone out and sent a text to my father.

**Come to my school. ~JWH**

He replied back almost instantly: **Did you kill someone? ~Sh**

** No. Just show up, and bring dad if you can. I got in trouble. ~JWH. **

** What for this time? ~SH**

"I take it he is replying?" Mr. Simole asked. I nodded, "Then tell him to answer his phone when I call."

**Answer your phone. ~JWH**

My father picked up on the second ring, "Mr. Holmes? This is Lucas Simole from your daughter's school... Yes, she is actually facing suspension... I would appreciate it if... Sir, you don't... Mr. Holmes if you could- He hung up on me!"

**Be there in 10 ~SH**

"He's on his way."

True to his word, father showed up ten minutes later and barged into the office, "What do you mean she will be suspended? What did she do?"

"If you would take a seat, I will explain."

Father took the seat next to mine and crossed his legs, "Now, explain. Hold on just a moment." His phone was ringing – great, that's dad's ring-tone. "John?.. A concussion? Really?.. Actually I'm here now, I'll call you back." He ended the call, "That was my husband, apparently he just saw the boy that you gave a concussion to. I'm going to guess that this is a good story."

"From what I understand, Mr. Illurm ran into Jasmine and knocked her tray out of her hands, from there she instigated the confrontation," Mr. Simole said.

"Jasmine?"

"In all honesty, he did run into me, got my lunch all over me, and then called me a bitch. I'm not having a good day," I said.

"He did insult her," father pointed out.

"That doesn't justify her giving him a concussion!" Mr. Simole exclaimed.

"The concussion was sort-of an accident. I grabbed his wrist and placed him on the floor, he was the one who started throwing punches. Watch the security footage."

That is exactly what we did.

Mr. Simole stopped the footage at where he came in, "How did you suspend yourself up like that?"

I bit my lip and stared at the picture on the wall, "I carry knives on me."

"This is a weapon free zone!"

"I never know when I will need them," I countered.

Simole's face was turning a nasty shade of purple, "Fine, if that is how it is going to be, one week suspension, starting now."

"_A week!_" I gasped. My grades!

Father was glaring at Simole, "Fine then. Jasmine, do you have your stuff together?" I nodded, "Good, let's go."

We ended up at Scotland Yard – apparently Uncle Greg needed our help with a case. He briefed us on the case and sent us on our way. The case was interesting, a triple homicide; all of the bodies were killed in the same way and only twenty minutes apart, but were all fifteen blocks away from each other.

"Think the same person is doing it or are we looking at a team?" I asked father as we got into a cab and headed to the first crime scene.

"Most likely a group of people. From what Lestrade has said, there are odd markings on the bodies, so it might be a cult."

"Finally, something interesting," I said.

Father smirked and glanced over at me, "So, what happened to your eyebrow and hair?"

"Bad day at school, not going to talk about it."

This has been the longest day of my life so far, I swear! The three murders were actually just a huge hoax for this new movie coming out, and all of the "bodies" were, admittedly very well done, wax figures. The calls were made by the assistant director so that, hopefully, this would get out into the press to give the movie more publicity.

Father and I arrived home in less than hour after going to look at the scene, and during the entire time, my stomach has been in knots.

"Ugh, I'm _starving_, what have we got to eat in the fridge?" I asked him.

"Don't know, order take-out," he replied while shrugging out of his coat.

"We always order take-out... I'll cook," I said and headed to the kitchen after discarding my coat as well.

"You cook? Don't burn the flat down, John wouldn't be to happy about that," I heard father mumble.

I rolled my eyes and rummaged through the cabinets, "What time is dad going to be home?"

"He texted me earlier and said that he had to pull a double, so probably not until late."

"Do you want anything to eat?"

"I ate yesterday."

_Fine, be that way_, I thought to myself.

There was practically nothing but tea and body parts in this entire kitchen... Aha! I grabbed a box of chocolate flavored cereal that was hidden behind a jar full of eyeballs and went to go up to my room.

"Really? Chocolate cereal for dinner?" father asked.

"It sounded good," I retorted and headed up the stairs.

My stomach is killing me! It feels like a million needles are being shoved into it repeatedly.

I sat up on my bed, but the entire room felt as though it was spinning; I guess I've been lying down for to long.

Why does the bathroom have to be so far away?

Finally, made it.

Sitting down, I went to reach for the toilet paper, but I glanced down at my underwear... is that...blood?

I'm bleeding? Why am I bleeding?

I kicked my pants off and cleaned myself up; more blood kept coming.

Okay, don't panic...don't panic...I'm panicking, "PAPA!"

"So this is normal for girls?" I asked dad for the fiftieth time.

"Yes! You don't have cancer or any type of disease. It's called a period. You're growing up, it's perfectly natural."

"How in the hell is bleeding from...from... _there_ natural?" I spat.

After father ran up the hallway to see what was the matter with me, he took one look at the blood on my pants, told me to put some clean clothes on, and rushed me over to the clinic so dad could explain this to me.

"It's just the bodies way of saying that you are able to reproduce now. Sort of like a dog coming into heat," he said.

"So what? I'm in heat now? Are boys going to flock to the flat? Great!" I mumbled and crossed my arms.

Dad let his head drop into his hands, "Sherlock, why couldn't you explain this to her?"

"I panicked."

Dad shook his head and pulled out his phone, "Who are you calling?" I asked.

He held up a finger to shush me, "Molly? Hey, it's John... I'm good... Sherlock is as well... Listen, I was wondering if you could do us a favor?... Well, could you take Jasmine to the store? She hit womanhood today... Yes, she was... I'm at the clinic with these two... Okay, see you in a bit." He hung up the phone and looked at father and I, "Molly will be here in a moment. Sherlock, you are going to go with them and get Jasmine some feminine products, don't argue about it either."

"What feminine products?" I asked.

"Didn't you have a sex-ed class in school?" he asked.

"I may or may not have skipped that day to help with a case," I replied.

His face is turning red...and he has that smile...

"I think we should wait for Molly in the waiting room," father suggested. We both began to slowly back out of the room.

Dad turned his back to us but I could hear him mumble, "Works every time."

"I'm not getting those," I said as Molly held up a box of tampons.

"They are more sanitary, but since this is your first... here," she said and handed me a box of pads.

Father had abandoned us in the feminine product section of the store and he was currently outside on his phone.

"What do I do with these?" I asked and held the box as far away from me as possible.

"It lines your underwear and soaks up the blood," she explained.

"...that is disgusting."

"It's effective. After we buy you some stuff, we'll go to my house so I can explain everything," Molly said. "Now, about how much blood was there?"

About an hour later, I was curled up on Molly's couch with her cat in my lap watching the news.

"Can you believe what is going on in America? Apparently there was alien contact!" Molly said.

The reporter was televising in some small town in the southwest part of the United States where, apparently, there was a huge alien battle.

"It's probably just some elaborate hoax," I muttered.

"I'm not so sure. Everyone thought that the Hulk was a hoax as well," she reminded me.

"Yeah, but that can be explained by science. Aliens with magical weapons? Please, nothing more than an elaborate crop circle," I spat.

"Still...What!"

"No. Fucking. Way."

On the television, there was actual footage of the fight – some local video-taped it. There were four people going up against this machine type thing, and they flattened the town!

"Okay... not a crop circle."

"Well then, I guess our world just got a lot more complicated... Wait till your father hears about this!" Molly said.

"Wait till I hear about what?" father drawled. He was leaning against the door frame with his arms casually crossed.

"Aliens in the States, can you believe it?" I asked him. This is actually really exciting!

"Oh, the Asgardians, yes, Mycroft and I were just talking about it actually. Apparently he has a meeting with a Director Fury this week in regards to this, and speaking of Mycroft, since you don't have school this week, he asked if you would like to spend your time off with him. He mentioned that you expressed an interest in going into politics when you graduate...how dull."

"Not into politics, **running** politics which in turn runs the world, and yes, if you don't need my help on any cases, I would love to intern with Uncle this week," I said, and I could see the relief on his face, "And yes, I know you mentioned it to him so you won't have to deal with me this week... Coward."

"I have every right to be a coward on this; I even stay away from Molly on her monthlies."

Molly and I glanced at each other, she said, "You do know that women who spend time together typically have their periods in sync... Sometimes even during the same week."

Father blanched, "If that happens, I'm shipping both of you out of the country for that week."

"I'll hold you to that," Molly said, "I've been needing a good vacation!"

My father scowled, "Come on Jasmine, we need to get back home before John does."

"Oh, alright," I muttered and got up. "Um... thank you for... well... you know..."

"Oh, no problem! Get a hold of me if you need anything else, and make sure you take some aspirin before you go to bed, it will help with the cramps. Also, if you feel like gorging yourself, go on ahead, we women are entitled to during our periods."

"Good, in that case we are stopping by the store before we go home," I told father.

"What for now?"

"Chocolate and ice-cream."

"Jasmine! Mycroft is here for you!" father called to me from the other side of the bathroom door.

"Tell him to give me five minutes," I said. My hair was not cooperating with me at all, it won't lie flat or twist up how I normally wear it. "Father, can you help me real quick?"

"If it is with your... feminine issue, then no," he said.

I sighed, "It's my hair."

He opened the door, "What have you done to it?"

Half of my hair was a giant frizz ball while the other was stuck to the side of my head, "It won't listen to me. I'm half tempted to cut it all off."

Father chuckled and grabbed my hair brush, "Hold still." In what seemed like no time at all, he had my hair in a loose braid and my bangs pinned back in a stylish manner. With my black slacks, white shirt, and over coat, I looked ready for business.

"Thank you!" I said and got up on my tip-toes to give him a peck on the cheek.

"No make-up?"

"Hell no."

Father sighed, "Sit down and hold still." He grabbed my eye-liner and pried my eye open.

"Papa! I don't have time for this!"

He did my other eye, "There, you are done. Now, do you have your purse ready?"

"Yes. I'll text you when I'm on my way home!" I said and headed out the door while putting my coat on.

"Don't forget your scarf!" father said and brought it to me.

Where as his is navy blue, mine is a deep purple, "Thank you, papa!"

I raced down the stairs and out the door

"So, what's on the agenda for today?" I asked my Uncle. We had been in the car for about ten minutes.

"We are meeting with an American agent; he is in charge of a project called S.H.I.E.L.D. His name is Director Nick Fury; he has asked to speak with me about Britain's support on an initiative he wants to create called the 'Avengers'." Uncle Mycroft handed me a folder, "Review this while we head tot he air-port; also, put this on." He handed me a shoulder holster with a gun already in position.

I nodded and took my suit jacket off and put the holster on. The folder was of considerable size and detailed every person who would be at the base.

"Where is the base? It just gives a set of coordinates," I asked.

"In the sky."

"Wait- what?"

We bordered a small, private jet and flew for about two hours before we descended upon a... well, for lack of a better description, a giant ship floating in mid-air by giant fans. Yes, I know the mechanics as to how this is releasable, but seeing this for the first time, it is pretty damn impressive and a bit awe inspiring.

When the jet came to a stop on the landing strip, we were instructed to exit the compartment and make our way outside. The wind was ferocious and people were scuttling about like little bugs; three people were walking towards us: Director Fury, Natasha Romanoff (a.k.a. The Black Widow), and Fury's assistant, Agent Maria Hill.

"Mycroft Holmes, I presume!" Fury said as he stuck his hand out to shake. "I'm glad you could attend this meeting, there is quite a bit we have to discuss."

Something feels off.

I stood to the left of my uncle and let my hands hang loosely by my side. Natasha and Hill were standing a bit back from us, they looked anxious.

"So I assumed," Mycroft drawled and shook the director's hand.

There!

In a fluid movement, I pushed my uncle back a few feet, grabbed the arrow that was heading straight for his head, grabbed my gun out of the holster, and had Fury on the ground with the gun pressed against his temple.

"Wasn't this supposed to be a peaceful meeting?" I asked. The two agents were gaping at me and when I glanced down, Fury was looking up with his one eye with a look of pure astonishment on his face. "Dearest Uncle, I do believe that this was a ruse, shall we go?"

Of all things, my Uncle began to laugh... What the bloody hell?

"Jasmine, let Director Fury go, that arrow was a fake."

The arrow, now on the ground by my feet, had no head on it, but in place there was a bean-bag.

I uncocked the gun but kept it where it was, "Tell Hawk-eye to come on out, then I will remove the gun."

Fury brought his hand up to his right ear, "Come out here, you've been spotted." He brought his hand down, "How did you know that it was Barton?"

I raised an eyebrow at him, is he an idiot? "We're up in the air, there is a tremendous amount of wind, and the head of the arrow is a bean-bag... Who else could have made that shot?"

"Valid point... and who are you?"

I glanced back at my Uncle, he nodded, "Jasmine Watson-Holmes, Mycroft's niece."

Fury raised any eyebrow at me, "I thought Sherlock was married to John Watson?"

"He is."

"Jasmine is technically mine and Sherlock's cousin, but when circumstances arose, Sherlock and John decided to adopt her," my uncle said, "Now, Jasmine, let Director Fury up; Barton is making his way here now."

I removed the gun from Fury's hand and offered him a hand up with my best, non-threatening smile. "Truly sorry about that! Sometimes my training just takes over."

He ignored my hand and stood up on his own while brushing his coat off, "Your niece is a bit creepy... How old are you?"

"Fifteen, sir."

"She is the protege of the British government, and is a force to be reckoned with," Mycroft said.

"Obviously," Fury muttered. "Now since that is out of the way, let's head in and get this business taken care of."

Agent Barton finally reached the group, and stopped when he saw my Uncle and I, "He finally caught my arrow?"

"No, the girl did," Agent Romanoff said.

He raised an eyebrow, "Nice reflexes, kid."

Kid? Really?

I let out a huff and followed Uncle and Director Fury into the headquarters of S.H.I.E.L.D... What could possibly go wrong?


End file.
